Vices
by Athena's Heart
Summary: Everyone has their vices, even soldiers of the Amestris military. Mustangs team included. There may be squinty Royai for Roy and Riza's vices later as its in order of rank lowest to highest. R/R please
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So i've been intending to write this for a while so here it is. It's a little angsty but i thought it would be good angle. anyway enjoy

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Chapter 1-Intro

"Vice~ A fault, defect, or shortcoming; A bad habit"

Most people, if not all, have bad habits, some more harmful than others. These habit become second nature, happening almost subconsciously. However, there are others who have one habit in particular that is practiced regularly and consistently. These people use their vices to help cope with stress, to help them relax, and in some cases to deal with unstable emotions.

It is very rare to find a group of people, all troubled and hurt, working in the same environment, though not impossible. One group of co-workers who spend a minimum eight hours a day together, all working to push one person, one man, to the top. These people can be found in Central City's Military head quarters, forming a platoon under one Colonel Roy Mustang. Sergeant Major Kain Feury, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, and Colonel Roy Mustang spend minimum forty hours together everyday. Being a military squadron, the six are near family, working together for the same life altering cause.

The squadron carries the weight of overthrowing the government on their shoulders. Because of this they respect each other, regardless of their flaws whether shown constantly or less than so.

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A/N: Well there you go. I hope you liked it. REVIEWS ARE HAPPINESS!!! also if anyone has any suggestions for anyone, msg me and ill take your ideas in account.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I had a little bit of trouble with him, so sorry if his story is alittle out there, even for a fanfiction

Chapter 2~ Sergeant Major Kain Feury

Kain Feury was an innocent looking tech geek. There was seemingly nothing sneaky or underhanded about him. But looks can be deceiving. The young Sergeant had a guilty pleasure of sorts. He spent his limited free time hacking computers and destroying reputations.

On rare occasions, he was assigned a life to ruin, but mostly, he did it for the fun of it. The feeling he got when he saw a victim in turmoil was strangely satisfying. The power that surged through him when he saw the person later was almost overwhelming. Despite his happy-go-lucky air, he tended to be more angsty than could be expected.

This angst could easily be blamed on his parents, who exploited his talent by acting as almost hit men, dragging people down for money. Feury was destroying reputations and raising them constantly. He was also used to hack banks to get money for his parents to pay off their gambling debts. By the age of ten, his parents no longer needed loans from the black market dealers as he took care of it for them.

After a job well done, he was rewarded with anything he ever wanted, living in the lap of luxury for years. However, as he got older, he was needed less as his parents kept their high status. His importance level dropped dramatically in his parents' eyes, but nothing else really changed. It didn't matter to him much, but whenever he got near the computer, he had an itch in his finger that never seemed to go away.

By high school, he owned everyone, both students and teachers, from the shadows. He always had a hidden agenda using whomever he needed for whatever he needed. He caused scandals, started rumors, and in a few cases, ended them. Despite his small stature, everyone knew not to get on his bad side. He could do whatever he liked whenever he liked and he knew there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. In Middle School there were many attempts, all ending in failure.

Unfortunately, his luck ran out during his sophomore year when his parents were charged with fraud and quite a few other charges, sending them to prison. Feury was left with two choices, an orphanage or Military school. He quickly chose the military, knowing it would be the same as his current school. After a week he controlled the underclassmen, a month he had the upperclassmen, and little after that, he owned most of the officers.

He was in his comfort zone once again, and never happier, in a twisted sort of way. That is, until he met Jean Havoc, a junior who somehow had the upper hand over him. No matter what Feury did, there was nothing to keep the boy's mouth shut. He seemed impervious to any attacks and he was forced to give up on the one kid.

After awhile, Feury found himself strangely interested in the smoking slacker. It had been so long since anyone had even considered talking back to him. They formed a sort of friendship, and through the rest of his schooling he found his itch had subsided considerably. He distanced himself less from others, and started to form friendships, even after Havoc graduated.

After he had graduated with honors, and was transferred to Colonel Roy Mustang's platoon, reuniting with havoc once more. When Mustang found out about his joy of hacking, he assigned the young man many corrupt higher officers to be knocked down a few pegs, if not be thrown from the military. Each completed assignment earned him the respect of his comrades. On occasion he helped boost his Commanding Officers already high reputation. He found it more enjoyable now that he had a purpose for it, and he knew, this is what it is all about.

As time went on, he was able to resist, if not totally block out his itch. But every now and then, he found himself near a computer. Giving a mischievous grin to himself, he found himself having a little less than innocent fun.

A/N: Well there you go. Falman is coming up next. REVIEWS ARE HAPPINESS!!!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, I e had this written for a while, but I lost the notebook I had it in…Anyway, it's a little out there as well. Its longer than Feury's because of his age. I through Falman back decades before the beginning of FMA

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Chapter 3~Warrant Officer Vato Falman

Vato Falman was by far the oldest member of Roy Mustang's platoon. Growing up in the poorer parts gave him a perspective none of his colleagues could possibly understand.. He had lived the life of hard knocks, working hard to bring in any money that he could. Being the oldest of six boys, he had to help his widowed mother provide for their family.

Falman was a good kid who got along well enough, staying out of trouble anyway. However, caring for five younger brothers was quite a task. He worked a minimum wage job, lying about his age at ten. Despite Vato's hard work and good intentions, the few dollars he managed to scrape up wasn't enough to keep his family afloat and he was forced to turn to less than honest means of providing for his family. Vato Falman was a thief.

When he turned twelve, one of the neighborhood kids taught him to sneak things without getting caught. Though, at first, he only got necessities, as time passed, he moved on to bigger and better things. By the age of fifteen, he was able to steal large and expensive items without being caught.

While grateful for the better living standards, his mother and brothers noticed a significant difference in him. He had quit his jobs and went to school regularly. He had always been able to learn something and remember it forever. It was one of the few reasons his teachers passed him.

As the years went by, Vato had graduated top of hi s meager class and was offered many prestigious scholarships, all of which he refused. He was an expert thief and had no intention of working ever again. He had only graduated school because he felt like it.

When his mother found out he turned down all of the scholarships, she was heartbroken. It was clear that, though he denied it, he was a kleptomaniac. He came home with the most random things and just left them, never looked twice at any of this spoils.

His brothers began turning their backs on him; refusing to eat the food he brought them. Soon after, his youngest brother, who was eight, died because he refused to take the medicine his oldest brother had stolen for him. The death hit him hard, and he finally understood the impact his thieving was making on his family.

It was then that he began trying to live an honest life.. It was to late for college, at the age of twenty-three, he should have been a year out of college. He had but one other option. Joining the military as an intellectual, he understood the challenges he would have to face, but at the age of twenty-three, he could hardly be called an old man.

In all honesty, before the day of enlistment, he had no intention of really getting a lot of time on the front lines. He most definitely had no intentions to become an officer. No his goals were much more trivial in his fellow soldiers' eyes. He merely worked for the money. To be able to provide for his family, to not let his brother's death be in vain.

His early years were unstable, but by twenty-six, he had a steady flow of money going to his three youngest brothers and mother. The second oldest boy was now twenty-one, had graduated school, and was attending college on the side of his job as a businessman. On occasion, he would make brief visits during his vacation, but, for the most part, he spent his time working at the records department or library for a little extra money.

He led a simple, yet enjoyable life as head of the military's library and archive manager in Central headquarters, but it would be a flat out lie to claim he never stole at all. In fact, he had a tendency to snatch the smallest and most unnecessary things he saw in store windows. Despite this, he considered it a great feat that he only took little things after even his youngest brother had finished school.

When some extremist group shot down his mother and two youngest brothers, Vato realized only he and his thirty-eight year old brother remained of their once happy family. After a quick funeral, he left his brother to deal with all of the little things. However, in honor of their memory, he prevented himself from stealing even little things.

It wasn't until seven years later that Vato saw his brother again. It turned out that he worked at a hospital in a little town near Central, a hospital many military men frequented for non-critical cases.

After catching up with his long lost brother, he also met his sister-in-law and his little nieces. They would meet at a little coffee shop conveniently located between Headquarters and the hospital at least once a week, if their schedules allowed it.

For the first time in years, he was genuinely happy, but, of course, all good things must end. His brother became deathly ill, catching an illness from the hospital. He died shortly after, at the age of fifty-one. After six years of bliss, Vato found himself alone once more.

When he went to get the old picture of his family, taken when even his youngest brother was still alive, his sister-in-law forced him to leave, claiming that he wasn't actually related to her late husband.

At the last moment, he was able to snag the picture without suspicion. With that small act came the realization that he had no reason not to live the easy life. Despite this, he continued to work in the military, stealing from, not only his fellow soldiers, but officers as well. If he saw something he wanted, he took it. As the quiet librarian, he was never suspected, until the day he came up against a force he was far out matched by.

On a sunny day in April, Vato remembered an interesting prop that the alchemist tended to leave on his desk, and he knew that he wanted it. He knew his target, Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, always seemed to be off in his own world, often leaving his office unlocked. It would be an easy job.

It was that day that that Vato found out the Flame Alchemist was not nearly as dumb as he looked. In fact, he had underestimated the man to such a degree that, upon entering the office, he was pinned to the wall, his arm twisted uncomfortably behind his back.

The Colonel had suspected the thief had been the book worm all along and had every intention to turn the man in, however, upon learning of his ability to retain information, Mustangs interest was aroused. He was faced with an ultimatum,: join Mustang's team or be dishonorably discharged and have his name and appearance circulated.

After weighing his options for a total of two seconds, he agreed to the arrangement. He easily fit into the team and genuinely enjoyed his co-workers antics. Not only was he granted full access to the Militaries many files, the Colonel seemed not to care when the rumors of the military thief were stirred up once more. On occasion, he was even sent on missions to retrieve certain things for his boss, with only one rule; No stealing from anyone in Mustangs platoon, a rule he could easily follow.

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A/N: So here it is. It moves pretty fast, but I always thought that Falman was maybe 55/56 when he worked for Mustang. Anyway, review if you have ANY kind of thought on this chapter. Breda is coming up next.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So this may seem to put him out of charater, but this whole thing is a series of out of character characters doing out of character things…

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Numbers. Stratagy. Those were Heymans Breda's strong points, and he used them to his full advantage. At a young age, Heymans discovered his affinity for numbers and puzzles and strategizing. His father was a relatively well known general in the East prior to the Ishval War and a master strategist, a trait which seemed to have taken up home in had his son.

The early years of his life were spent solving puzzles in loving home environment. Heymans had the perfect life, and he knew it. He had parents who loved him, a nice house, even a dog. It wasn't until his twelfth birthday that he learned about how cruel the world truly was. They had gone camping; his dog contracted rabies and bit his mother, almost taking a bite of Heymans himself. His father was forced to neutralize the situation. He shot the dog and knocked out his wife.

His father was a large man and, underestimating his strength, hit his wife too hard, killing her instantly. Despite the fact that she would have died anyway, his father fell into a deep depression, abandoning his son for the comforts of the bottle. He lost his commission, his respect, and his income.

His father tried to keep the afloat at first, turning to local casinos, essentially losing more than they won. Soon they were so steeped in debt, they had to change their names until the debt collectors lost track of them.

As Heymans grew up in the crummy side of town, he joined a gambling ring. He was a master mathematician, and it wasn't hard for him to make money off the fools who were involved. He made connections in all the wrong places, and it wasn't long before he had ascended into the higher rankings of his gang. By age sixteen, he was the big boss, the one everyone else reported to. Not only did he command his ring, he was involved in a complicated web of others, under different names and personas, all the time making more and more money.

His name became well known, not only in his slum, but also by upper crust citizens. People who gambled just for fun, people who were nothing like him. He used much of his money to take care of his father, whose mental stability was deteriorating rapidly. Despite his multiple personas and lives and names and associates, he kept everything straight in his head. He knew who everyone was, the different dates, times, events, all of them in different categories in his mind. But most importantly, he kept it up front that these people were NOT his friends.

Although he had a stable means of income from his web of sources, he had a soft spot for slot machines, the one gambling system whose code he couldn't crack. The one game he couldn't strategize and reason with. The one true game of chance.

Heymans knew he was on a slippery slope when his main ring was busted for under the table dealings when he was twenty-one. Two years later, after he had established a new ring, he was ratted out in a coup by most of his associates, something that did not surprise him, and sent to prison temporarily, as they had no real proof. His ex-associates couldn't give proof without ratting themselves out, and he knew that, without him, they would tear themselves apart in less than a week. Three days later, the entire ring was busted.

Upon his release, he took his father, a few valuables, and left the city, in search of a new place to settle and rebuild from scratch. His father didn't handle the change of scenes well, and it was clear his mental health had nearly completely deteriorated.

By age twenty-five, his father died. With nothing to work for, his gambling rings failed from the get-go. Heymans was lost, so he took comfort in the only thing that had remained, that he could depend on; Slot machines, and their predictable unpredictability. He was flat broke within hours.

For the first few months, he just wandered, place-to-place, trying to motivate himself to make money, live properly, but nothing encouraged him. He slept under bridges, ate what he could. Occasionally he gambled some money off some sucker, but that wasn't a common occurrence.

When a year passed, it was clear Amestris was changing. The war with Ishbal called for more and more troops; there had even been rumors of a draft being enacted. This news revitalized Breda. He joined the military, throwing his fathers name around, as well as a few well-placed bets.

Upon his arrival in Ishbal, his was immediately scouted for his analytical abilities and masterful command of strategy. For him, the whole thing was pretty surreal. He was kept off the front lines, spending most of his time in the strategy tent. However, on his time off, he went among the foot soldiers, learning the different games and culture of the lower class soldiers. It was there his gambling addiction was fueled the most.

The soldiers played a game very similar to poker at night. It wasn't long until he had figured out the system, guaranteeing his success. Despite the money he should have been raking in, it wasn't really the money he wanted but the success. Being able to predict results gave him a high like no other.

However, it wasn't long before the other soldiers caught on. They would bet on what he bet, and soon, he was ignored all together. He wouldn't admit it, but he considered the lack of mental stimulation the base of his worse experiences.

He would wander aimlessly around the camp, not daring to approach anyone. They all knew about him. In a situation like this, when everyone just wanted a distraction, gossip was key. Every now and then, when the sound of bullets ceased, he would wander into the shallow battlefield, where not much fighting took place. He'd wander around, weighting the odds of whether or not he'd be shot, whether he'd be captured, even which cloud would get to what point and when. He accepted how pathetic the whole thing was, but if he stayed in strategy tent, he knew he'd go mad.

On one occasion, some guy came running up, with a look of pure joy in his eyes. He introduced himself as Maes Hughes, and wanted Breda prediction on whether or not the women's letter indicated willingness to marry him. After reading through the letter, he realized it was clear they were already engaged, a point he mentioned handing the letter back.

Hughes grinned and walked away without another word. After taking a moment to process, he shook his head out, deciding to return to the strategy tent. The war had been going well recently, and they were saying there was a good chance he'd be sent home. It'd been nearly three years in this hellhole and he was ready to get gone. They'd been shipping important people back and he was sure he'd be next.

Three weeks later he got his wish. The war was over for the most part, just some cleaning left. He was told he was going to East Head Quarters. That he'd been requested for his expert strategy skills.

When he arrived, he was surprised by who picked him up. Maes Hughes was standing on the platform, waving him over, explaining that he'd be working for the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang. However, the moment he got out of the train station, he spotted a casino, dropped his bags and sprinted to it.

If Hughes was surprised, he didn't let on. He merely picked up his bags and followed. Breda played until he lost all of his money. When he turned around, he seemed like a different person, calmer, happier, better.

They made a quick detour to his lodgings in the barracks before heading over to Head Quarters. When he reached the office, Hughes instructed him to wait outside. When he returned he was holding a small envelope. Inside was 835 yen, which he explained was for his gambling addiction. Every morning he would receive an envelope containing the money.

Within the next few weeks, five others arrived to work under Mustang. He made his first true friends. As time passed, his addiction fed by the money he received, he became a valuable asset to Mustangs team. He knew he was finally doing something worthwhile with his intellect.

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A/N: So, this one is pretty crummy, but I didn't want Breda to be a pig. Honestly, that is mad boring. Anyway, Review if you've got a moment.


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